


the waters that make your eyes shine

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Misunderstandings, Stupid Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a sniffling boy in a coffee shop and a kind stranger sitting down across from him. He’s not sure how it’ll go yet, what the ending will be, but time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the waters that make your eyes shine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [n0pe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0pe/gifts).



> Thank you to my lovely friends for betaing. 
> 
> To n0pe, I hope you enjoy it!

Zayn has never had allergies before, but for the past week, it seems like he hasn’t stopped sniffling for more than a few minutes. He should probably try some medication, but he keeps expecting it to pass because that’s what allergies do. They pass. And now that spring is fading into summer, certainly it’ll be over soon.

He’s been fine all morning, but when he gets to Starbucks for his late morning latte, it kicks up again. He grabs his cup and finds a table in the back corner, settling in as his nose twitches. He can’t even sneeze, just feels his eyes itching and growing wet as he sits there miserably. He was going to try to write, but he doesn’t even pull his laptop out, dropping his head into his hands.

It doesn’t let up and he feels wetness spill over the rims of his eyelids, rubs at his face to try to soothe the itch of his sinuses, but it doesn’t help. Frustrated, he tugs at his hair, but that only seems to make the itching worse.

Rolling his eyes to himself, he pulls out his phone to look up the nearest chemist. He’s sure there’s a Boots a couple of blocks away, but he can’t remember which direction. He’s frowning at his phone, sniffling and blinking his watery eyes when someone sits in the chair across the tiny table.

Looking up, he means to ask what the fuck they’re doing sitting with him when there are plenty of open tables around him, but then he sees this boy, this beautiful boy with messy light brown hair swept over his forehead and bright blue eyes, squinted in what seems to be concern. Zayn just stares at him, a little bit frozen, until the boy speaks.

“Hey,” he says quietly, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small packet of tissues and pushes it across the tabletop toward Zayn. “Sorry if this is, like, weird or whatever, but you looked like you could use a friend.”

Zayn keeps staring, confused and sort of in awe because the bloke across from him is truly gorgeous and he’s looking at Zayn, a little bit awkward, but like he _cares_ , and it’s just surreal.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or I could help you get your mind off it?” The bloke looks nervous, the corner of his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he peers at Zayn. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

“Zayn,” Zayn says, his voice froggy. Just then, his sinuses flare up and he brings his hands to his eyes, screwing them shut, and presses his palms to them to soothe the itch.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis says, and Zayn feels the boy’s hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re alright.”

It hits Zayn then, what the fuck is happening. Of course. He probably looks like a wreck, eyes red and swollen and brimming with tears. It makes sense now. “No, it’s not – “ he starts, pulling his hands away from his eyes, but Louis stops him.

“It’s fine, Zayn, we’ve all been there, yeah?” Something about this boy looking at him, concerned and sweet, saying Zayn’s name, makes him forget what he was even going to say. “Is it girl troubles?” Louis goes on, his fingers still resting against Zayn’s forearm, but he pulls them away as he asks, quieter, “Or guy troubles?”

There’s almost a hint of hopefulness in Louis’ tone and Zayn doesn’t think as he instinctively answers, “Guy troubles,” only worried about making sure that Louis knows that he is very much into men.

Louis visibly breathes out a sigh of relief at that, a small smile forming on his lips. “Oh, good,” he says before his eyes suddenly go wide. “I mean, not good, not- I didn’t mean that. I just meant, you know, I try not to flirt with straight boys, even if they are as pretty as you.”

Zayn nearly chokes, his cheeks flaming hot as he looks down. He gets hit on fairly often, by men and women, but he can’t remember the last time he was hit on by someone this cute. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he _saw_ someone this cute, so the fact that he’s openly admitting to flirting and calling Zayn _pretty_ is a bit overwhelming.

“God, I’m such a prick,” Louis mumbles across the table. “You’re obviously heartbroken and I’m sitting here flirting with you. I’m sorry, mate, I’ll leave you alone. Just – ” Louis pauses and Zayn looks up, meeting the boy’s gaze. “You’re too good for him, okay? Remember that.”

He starts to get up then, but Zayn reaches out without thinking, loosely grabbing his wrist. “Wait.”

Louis looks down, standing next to the table, making no attempt to pull away from Zayn’s grasp. Zayn swallows, swiping his free hand over his left eye, smearing tears across his skin.

“Help me get my mind off it?” he asks, biting down on his lip.

He’s a shitty person, probably, but Louis smiles at him, sitting back down, and Zayn can’t find it in himself to feel bad.

-

_Hey zayn hope you’re feeling better today xx_

Zayn reads the text at work the next afternoon, blushing furiously. He and Louis had spent over an hour talking at the coffee shop the day before and, when they’d exchanged numbers, Zayn had hoped Louis would use his but he’d tried not to get his hopes up. And now there’s an actual text from “Louis from Starbucks” on the screen of his phone, complete with two kisses.

“You shouldn’t be on your phone,” Liam says, walking behind the counter where Zayn is sat. He’s got a box of new shipment in his arms, carrying it like it’s nothing. This is why he does the stocking and Zayn sticks to helping customers.

“Every day,” Zayn sighs out, giving Liam a fond, exasperated look. “Don’t you ever get tired of telling me that?”

Liam shrugs, opening up the box to peer inside. “Just don’t want you to get fired, mate. Trying to be a good friend.”

“Sure, babe,” Zayn says, poking Liam in the side before turning back to his phone.

Liam has most of the box unpacked and the new comics put away when Zayn has finally decided on how to reply, sending the text.

_Much better. Still might need some distraction though... Want to hang out sometime? xx_

He’d contemplated for a full minute over whether to add a third kiss, but decided to play it safe. He sets his phone down and feels a little twinge in his sinuses, wrinkling his nose in response. Groping under the counter, he finds the box of Clarityn he’d bought after leaving Starbucks and he takes another. The whole crying thing may have worked out pretty well for him the day before, but he’s not going to keep pretending to cry to gain Louis’ sympathy. He’s not _that_ much of a prick.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Liam asks, flicking through the comics closest to the register, making sure they’re organized correctly. “I think Harry’s working. We could use his discount.”

“His discount? Liam, he doesn’t get a discount. He just gives us free beer.”

Liam frowns to himself. “I feel better about it when I think of it as a discount,” he says.

Zayn laughs, shaking his head at his mate, and purposely doesn’t answer just yet. He glances at his phone, waiting for a response before he makes plans with Liam just in case Louis wants to meet up tonight.

“So, tonight?” Liam prompts after a long pause.

Zayn opens his mouth to give some sort of noncommittal answer just as his phone lights up. It’s embarrassing how quickly he reaches out for it, swiping it open to the new text from Louis.

_Do we need to get you drunk? ;)_

Zayn’s heart skips in his chest, his cheeks flushing, and he looks up at Liam, trying to conceal his grin. “Free beer sounds great, Li.”

-

“Oh my god.”

Zayn is straightening the comics ten minutes before closing when he hears the voice from the door. Turning, he sees Louis standing just inside, looking around him in awe. He doesn’t even seem to notice Zayn until he’s scanned the entire space and his gaze flicks back to Zayn, wide-eyed.

“This is where you work?” he asks, disbelief in his tone.

Zayn immediately feels self-conscious. “Yeah, well, just for now,” he says, turning away from the rack in front of him to face Louis. “I’m taking a gap year to try writing. This just pays the bills in the meantime.”

Louis seems to have barely heard him, hustling over to the closest rack where the new releases are displayed. “Do you get a discount?” he asks excitedly.

Zayn nearly passes out. He can’t remember the last time he met someone even nearly as fit as Louis who liked comic books, too. “Thirty percent,” he answers, stepping closer to where Louis is distractedly running his finger over the covers as he browses. When he gets close, he leans in and says, “Don’t mess those up. I just straightened them.”

Louis whips around at Zayn’s voice, like he hadn’t expected him to be so close. He quickly smirks, though, and says, “Are you allowed to speak to customers like that? I do believe you’re open another” – he checks the clock – “seven minutes.”

He’s different today, not as concerned and gentle as he was when he thought Zayn was crying in the coffee shop. He’s got a wicked gleam in his eye and Zayn is definitely into it. He makes a list in his head: 1. Sweet and caring, 2. Beautiful, 3. Likes comic books, 4. Quick wit.

Even though they’ve only known each other for a day, Zayn can already tell he’s going to fall for him. He’s already starting to.

“Okay, seven minutes,” he agrees, waving for Louis to go ahead. “Just put everything back where you found it or you’ll have to wait around for me to fix it before we can go drink.”

Something flickers across Louis’ expression, some sort of remembrance, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “Right, yeah, we have to get you good and drunk, don’t we?”

Zayn considers playing it up, acting sad to get more of Louis’ attention, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He feels bad enough as it is, letting the boy go on believing that he’s got a broken heart. “Yeah,” he says instead, nodding. “It’ll be good.”

When Liam comes out from the stockroom and Zayn introduces the two of them, he realizes that maybe this was a bad plan. Liam might say something to make Louis realize that he’s been lying or Louis might say something that Liam will ask about, but he figures it’s not likely to come up. If he needs to, he can just tell Louis that he hasn’t told Liam about it. It’s not as if he tells the lad everything, he supposes.

“Ready to go?” Liam asks, bringing Zayn’s attention back where he’s standing at the front door, keys in hand.

Zayn nods and turns to Louis, eyebrows lifted. “Ready?”

Louis gives him a mischievous grin. “Always.”

-

The pub is crowded, always is on Friday nights, but they’re lucky enough to find a high-top in the back and Zayn claims it quickly, motioning for Louis to sit down.

“What can I get you?” he asks loudly over the din, leaning close to the boy.

“No, no, first round’s on me,” Louis argues, going to stand.

Zayn puts a hand to his shoulder, though, shaking his head. “No, it’s alright, we drink for free here.”

Just as Louis is giving him a curious look, their alcohol donor shows up, grinning brightly. “Lads!” he says, hair flopping in his face, then notices Louis. “Oh, this one is new.”

“This is Louis,” Zayn says to Harry, sitting down on the stool next to Louis, close enough that their knees touch. He turns to the boy next to him and nudges his head toward Harry.. “And that’s Harry, the reason we get free drinks.”

Harry perks up, almost like he’s proud, and shakes Louis’ hand before turning back to Zayn. “So, is this a date? It’s about time, Zayner.”

Zayn feels a little swell of panic and starts speaking immediately to keep Harry from going on about how he hasn’t had a date in months and hasn’t had a boyfriend in longer. “Not a date,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “Hey, Harry, grab us some pints, will you?”

Harry gives him a little disbelieving look, but bounces off to get their beers anyway. Turning back to Louis, the lad has a strange expression, brow furrowed.

“About time?” he asks, eyes squinted in confusion. “I thought you just broke up with that guy.”

Zayn isn’t sure what to say. He hasn’t had enough time to think this whole thing through and he’s starting to feel really shitty about letting Louis believe any of it from the start. Why didn’t he just explain the misunderstanding? Maybe he was worried that his apparent emotional vulnerability was the only thing that Louis was attracted to.

“Oh,” Louis says softly, expression changing from confusion to something like pity. “Shit, it’s been longer, hasn’t it. And you’re still –“ He cuts himself off, but Zayn understands what he means. _Still fucked up over him to the point of crying in coffee shops._

This is all going wrong. He wants to just tell him now, explain the whole thing, but he likes Louis so much. He doesn’t want to risk him walking out and he knows that there is indeed a significant risk of that if he tells him now.

At that moment, Harry returns with their beers, setting them down on the table, and Zayn glances at his before looking back to Louis. “Let’s not talk about this right now,” he suggests, nudging Louis’ pint toward him. “Let’s just get drunk, yeah?” He’s hoping Louis is more understanding after a pint or two.

Louis smiles, but there’s sadness in it and Zayn can’t figure that out, can’t decide if it’s still pity or something else. “Alright, babe,” he says softly, but then he scoots back on his stool until their knees aren’t touching anymore and picks up his glass. “Cheers.”

Zayn misses the contact of Louis’ leg touching his, but he tips back his pint anyway, hoping that by the end of it, they’ll be touching again.

-

As they drink the first round, Zayn and Liam listen to Louis tell stories, all of the attention at the table on him. He’s charming and witty and loud and Zayn can’t stop smiling as he listens to the lad. A half hour into the evening, he moves his leg, masking the movement with a stretch, until his knee is touching Louis’ again. To his delight, Louis doesn’t pull away, continuing to tell them about the time he drunkenly broke into a cemetery in the middle of the night.

As the night goes on, Zayn becomes even more taken with Louis. He hopes like hell that it’s not showing on his face, how infatuated he is. They barely know each other. They met thirty-six hours ago. Zayn knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help pushing their legs closer, wanting so badly to reach out for him.

After the third round, Zayn is properly buzzed and he’s forgotten what he’d wanted to do. There was something he wanted to ask Louis, or maybe tell him, but it’s gone from his memory now.

He goes to the loo, feeling floppy and light, and when he comes out, Louis standing right by the door. Smiling, Zayn walks right up to him, pushing his arms up around the boy’s shoulders.

“Hi,” he says, stomach fluttering from the proximity and cheeks pink from the alcohol.

Louis drops his head a bit, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hey,” he says, and Zayn nearly moans when Louis’ hands slip around his waist, holding him. “You good?”

Zayn has no idea why he wouldn’t be good. He’s got Louis’ arms around him; what else could he want?

Instead of answering, he leans in without processing what he’s doing, without thinking about it at all. He just tilts his head, presses close, and finds Louis’ lips with his own. A little noise escapes Louis between them, but Zayn swallows it, parting his lips to kiss him properly and moaning softly when Louis returns it just as excitedly.

Zayn tangles his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Louis’ head, kissing him deeply. It’s a really fucking good kiss, the kind that makes Zayn’s skin buzz, his heart racing. It’s so good and Louis’ lips feel amazing against his and that’s why the last thing he expects is for Louis to suddenly pull away, taking a step back as he opens his eyes, almost alarmed.

“Shit, no,” he says, bringing his hand to his face and wiping his wrist over his lips. “I can’t – I can’t do this.”

Zayn takes a shaky breath. “Why not?”

“Because,” Louis says, throwing his arms up in frustration before dropping them back to his sides. “I – Christ, I _like_ you, you know? I like you. And – yesterday you were crying over someone else and I know what this is. And I can’t do that because I _like_ you.”

Zayn frowns, trying to keep up, but the beer and the kiss have made his mind feel sluggish, like everything’s moving too fast. Finally, he remembers what it is he wanted to tell Louis. It hits him and he blurts it out, the answer to this problem.

“I wasn’t crying over a guy,” he says quickly, wanting to get this all straightened out so they can get back to the kissing as soon as possible. “I wasn’t crying at all. I had allergies and you – well, you were cute and so fucking sweet and I couldn’t tell you that you had it wrong. I didn’t want you to leave, so I went along with it.”

He waits for Louis to react, to show some sort of relief that they can do this now, but it doesn’t come. Louis just stares at him, doesn’t move, but Zayn feels like he’s drifting further away somehow.

“So you can kiss me,” he adds, voice going quiet, then reaches out.

As soon as he touches Louis’ arm, though, the boy backs away, slinking away from the touch. Zayn frowns more, confused. Louis had just said that he likes him and now he’s pulling away. It doesn’t make any sense to Zayn’s beer-addled brain.

“Who does that?” Louis finally says, his voice sounding hoarse. “Who pretends to be heartbroken to pick up blokes?”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Zayn starts, squinting at the boy in front of him, worry creeping up in his chest. “I didn’t pretend. I didn’t do it on purpose. I just didn’t set you straight. I mean, I know it wasn’t –“

“You said his name’s Niall,” Louis says, and now he looks angry, his eyes gone cold. “You said he cheated on you. Are you really going to act like you didn’t lie to me?”

The worry breaks out into full-on dread as Zayn remembers it, the massive mistake of making up a story when they were sitting in that Starbucks. Louis had asked and he’d said the first name he could think of, his roommate’s. He’d known in the moment that it was stupid, but Louis had leaned forward, settling his hand over Zayn’s wrist, and he’d forgotten all about the stupidity of it.

“Louis,” Zayn says weakly, trying to reach out again, but Louis is already backing away, shaking his head.

“Who does that?” he says again, the question rhetorical, then turns away completely, walking toward the exit.

Zayn is stuck. He doesn’t bother running after him because he’d probably just fuck it up even more. He just watches him leave and thinks about what an absolutely massive idiot he is.

-

He texts Louis ten times over the following three days before he finally gets a response: _If you don’t stop I’m gonna change my number and that’s such a pain in the arse so if you do actually like me, just stop._ He stops texting after that, knowing that he doesn’t have a shot.

It’s so fucking stupid because they only spent a few hours together, but Zayn is sad. He’s quiet at work, he can’t write, and even Niall is giving him concerned looks when they’re both home. He gets stoned most nights, just because, and he holds the blunt in one hand and a pen in the other, holding it to a blank piece of paper.

He deserves it, he knows. When he’d sobered up the next morning, he’d realized that he ended up telling Louis the truth in the worst way possible. In his head, the confession had always been strewn with apologies, just a hint of begging thrown in for good measure. But he’d just blurted it out like it wasn’t a big deal. He wants Louis to know that he realizes it was a big deal, that he really fucked up and he feels like shit about it. He wants Louis to know that, yeah, they barely know each other but Zayn thinks about him every day, doesn’t even want to forget him.

He can’t tell him any of that, though, so he gets stoned and broods.

“There are other blokes,” Liam says one day when Zayn is sitting at the register, staring miserably at the wall. “Lots of them, you know? And you’ve got that moody artist vibe that everyone loves so you’ll find yourself a good one.”

Zayn shrugs, not wanting to be a prick about it even though all he can think is that Louis was the best one. “I suppose,” he answers flatly. He can’t bring himself to make it sound sincere.

When he’d told Liam what happened, Liam had cringed and, even though he’d been supportive about it, that cringe had said everything. Zayn remembers Louis’ voice as he’d turned away. _Who does that?_ The words claw at his insides, make him feel rotten to the core.

A week passes and then two weeks pass and Zayn knows it’s time to let it go. It’s time to move on.

-

It’s a Tuesday evening and the shop has been dead all day. Zayn has barely managed to keep busy, sorting through customer files and cleaning around the register. He’d even stocked a bit, helping Liam out, but now there’s a half hour until they close and he’s out of things to do. Checking to make sure Liam isn’t around, he pulls out his phone to play some games until he can lock the door and shut down.

He’s in the middle of a round of Tetris when the front door pings, a customer coming in, and he grunts softly because of course someone would come in at 9:45 when they’ve been empty for two hours. They’ll probably stay past ten, keeping them there late. He doesn’t bother looking up, even to throw them a glare, because his blocks are piling up and he has to think quickly.

When he finally loses a couple of minutes later, he pockets his phone and gets off his stool. If he offers to help the customer, they might not dawdle as much, so he makes his way around a rack in the middle of the small shop, walking toward the customer.

When he sees him, he stops in his tracks. Louis is standing there, casually looking through a comic book.

It’s been almost three weeks since they saw each other and Zayn has been working on sulking less lately but, fuck, he’s still completely hung up on him and now Louis is here. He’s standing a few metres from Zayn, here at Zayn’s work, and that has to mean something.

“You’re terrible at your job, you know,” Louis says without looking up. He flips a page, but Zayn can’t imagine he’s actually reading. “Didn’t even look up when I walked in. I could have stolen so much shit.”

“We have a security system,” Zayn answers and, even as the words come out of his mouth, his brain screams at him that that doesn’t matter right now. Louis is here and he’s talking about the bloody anti-theft system in the store.

Even so, he’s not sure what else to say. So, he waits for Louis to start.

He flips through a few more pages before he finally sighs, dropping the comic onto the display next to him. It’s not in the right place, but Zayn doesn’t say anything.

“My mate made me come,” he says, turning to Zayn. When their eyes meet, Zayn is glad to see that Louis’ aren’t nearly as cold as the last time he saw them. They look tired, actually. Maybe even a bit sad. “Said I was whining too much and I should just come see you.”

“Whining?” Zayn asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Louis’ lips curl into a strange smile, almost self-deprecating as he rolls his eyes. “I told you I liked you, didn’t I? Shouldn’t be a surprise that I’ve been less than thrilled since- since that night.”’

Zayn winces, wanting to apologize more, but Louis speaks again before he can. “Listen, okay?” he says, determination settling into his expression as he looks at Zayn. “I don’t like to talk about my feelings very much, so just listen while I get this out.” Zayn nods, clamping his lips shut, and Louis sighs, rubbing his hands together in front of him. “Right. So, the thing is I don’t often go up to strangers to chat them up. I have to be pretty wasted to have the courage to march up to someone and start flirting. But I went up to you in that coffee shop because you were crying, or I thought you were crying, and, like, what if I hadn’t? What if you hadn’t looked like you were crying? I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to go up to you. I mean, god, _look_ at you.”

Warmth spreads over Zayn’s skin, a blush erupting on his cheeks. Honestly, he’s not the type to blush over boys complimenting him, but something about Louis gives the compliment more weight. It’s a bigger deal coming from _this_ boy.

“This is stupid,” Louis says then, shaking his head. “You’ve probably already forgotten all about me.”

At that, Zayn can’t stay silent anymore. He takes a quick step forward, then stops himself, not wanting to be too pushy. “Are you kidding? You think I’ve forgotten about you?” He pushes his hands into his pockets just to keep from reaching out. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and what an idiot I was and how I ruined what I think could have been amazing.”

Louis looks down, his gaze dropping to the floor, but Zayn goes on. “I know we don’t really know each other, but you’re, like.” He shakes his head to himself, smiling despite himself. “You’re funny and clever and you like comic books and you’re so fucking sweet and you’re- like, “beautiful” isn’t a good enough word, you know?” He takes a deep breath, embarrassed to be saying all of this, but wanting Louis to understand. When he goes on, he drops his voice, speaking softly. “I’m so sorry I lied to you. I swear, I’m not that kind of person. I just- I made a mistake.”

Louis doesn’t look up right away, scuffing his feet against the floor. “Big mistake,” he murmurs.

“Big mistake,” Zayn repeats in agreement, nodding.

After a few seconds, Louis finally meets Zayn’s gaze again, straightening his spine. “If I let you buy me a drink, are you going to fuck it up again?”

Zayn’s whole body seems to feel lighter in an instant, a smile stretching over his lips. He can’t fucking believe he’s getting a second chance. He doesn’t deserve it, he knows that, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to take it.

“I’ll try not to,” he says honestly. He doesn’t want to lie anymore, so he can’t really promise he won’t fuck it up, but what he can do is try.

Louis studies him for a long moment, eyes narrowed as he considers it. “Alright,” he decides, his voice softer than usual. “That’s good enough.”

Zayn practically jumps forward, pushing into Louis’ space, but he stops with his mouth an inch away from Louis’, lets his eyes flutter shut. “Can I?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cradle Louis’ jaw.

“If you must,” Louis sighs as if he’s put out, but Zayn can hear the quiver in his voice, can feel the way Louis’ fingers find his waist and twist into the fabric of his shirt.

“I must,” Zayn says, then leans in, touching his mouth to Louis’.

It’s even better than the kiss they shared in the pub; this kiss feels like a fresh start, like a million possibilities blooming between them.

For the first time in weeks, Zayn thinks of a story he wants to write. It starts with a sniffling boy in a coffee shop and a kind stranger sitting down across from him. He’s not sure how it’ll go yet, what the ending will be, but time will tell.

Honestly, he can’t wait.

-

(One year later)

-

Once Zayn gets the kettle on, he gropes around the cupboard, looking for the packet he’d thrown in there. His eyes are watery and his face is so itchy that he wants to claw it off and he sighs gratefully when he finds the packet, pulling it out. There’s only one tablet left and he starts the annoying process of digging it out of the plastic sleeve.

He woke up early, feeling like shit, and he knows he’s not going to feel better for at least another hour so his plan is to have a cup of tea and watch something mindless on telly until the medicine kicks in and he can go back to sleep. But then he hears his bedroom door go and he turns to watch Louis walk out of it in his pants, rubbing sleepily at his face.

“Hey,” the boy says roughly. “Why aren’t you in bed? It’s cold in there now.”

Zayn tries to smile but it just makes his eyes water more. He curses whatever it is in the air that makes him feel like this.

“Oh,” Louis mumbles, stepping closer as Zayn sniffs, still trying to get the bloody tablet out of its packaging. “Did Niall cheat on you again, babe?”

Zayn just pouts at him miserably, handing over the package and waiting for Louis to help him. It’s sort of a routine by now. Any time he gets like this, Louis makes a comment about Niall cheating on him, laughing at the thought. Ever since Louis got to know Niall, spending time around both of them, he realized how fucking funny the idea of it is. It’s a joke now, not something that makes Zayn shrivel up with guilt.

“Don’t cry,” Louis says softly, joking. He gets the tablet out and hands it over, waiting as Zayn swallows it down with a glass of water. When Zayn’s finished, Louis’ thumbs brush away the smudged tears around his eyes. “You’re too pretty to be so sad,” he says, smirking even through his sleepiness.

“Shut up,” Zayn mutters, his voice cracking over his dry throat. “I _am_ sad. This sucks.”

“Wonder if you’re allergic to weed,” Louis says thoughtfully.

Zayn tries to glare and retorts, “Maybe I’m allergic to _you_.” He tries to kick Louis’ ankle, but misses.

“You think so?” Louis asks softly, stepping closer until they’re pressed together. “Think it was my cock in you last night that did it?” He kisses Zayn’s jaw, whispering against the skin, “You did go a bit teary, didn’t you?”

Zayn shudders because no amount of allergies or fatigue could guard him against Louis’ voice saying those things. He drops his hands to Louis’ waist, sliding them over the curves of it. He thinks he’s got Louis’ body memorized now, but he never stops studying it.

“Must be it,” he replies, eyes closed as Louis noses at his jaw, shifting until his lips catch on Zayn’s ear.

Louis hums there, so softly that it makes Zayn shiver. “Maybe we ought to test it out again,” he suggests, his voice whispered but still rough with sleep. “Just to be sure, of course.”

The kettle goes then, drawing Zayn’s attention away from Louis, and he leans over to take it off the stove. He wants to “test it out” but he also wants tea, so he steps away from Louis and grabs two mugs, fixing them up.

They drink tea and then Louis sucks Zayn off slowly as his medicine starts to kick in. When his sinuses feel clear and he’s hard as a rock, he pulls Louis off of him and spreads himself out as much as he can on the sofa. Louis fucks him gently, knowing that Zayn is still sensitive from the night before, and even though they’re tired and the sun is just starting to rise, it’s about as good as it’s ever been with them.

Of course, there’s _a lot_ of competition.

Halfway through, Niall comes out of his room and Zayn would panic if it was the first time, but as it is, Louis keeps fucking him as Zayn tilts back his head, looking over at him.

“Christ,” Niall says, shaking his head as he walks toward the kitchen. “You do have a room, you know.”

“Sorry, bro,” Zayn says, breath hitching. “Didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

Niall doesn’t answer, just grabs a cup of tea and walks back to his room. When Zayn looks back up to Louis, he’s smirking.

“Think he does it on purpose sometimes,” he says, rolling his hips forward and making Zayn moan softly. “We need to get him laid.”

Zayn’s mouth drops open as Louis fills him up, sliding in slowly, deeply with each thrust. “Later,” he breathes out. “We will later.”

Louis hums his agreement and drops down, pressing their bodies close as he fucks Zayn, kissing over the curve of his neck. Zayn holds onto him, arms tight around his back like he’s afraid to let go. And he is, of course. He couldn’t let go if he tried.

In the end, he’s glad for his allergies. They’re a pain in the arse and they make him miserable sometimes, but they’re the reason for this, for Louis in his arms, inside of him, in his bloody life. He can’t regret being such an idiot when they met because it all worked out for the better. For the best, really.

Later that day, he finishes his first novel. It’s a story about two boys who have an unorthodox first meeting and a rocky start, but who fall in love despite that. They navigate the beginning of their relationship and there are challenges and setbacks, but mostly there’s companionship and laughter, sex and comfort. He blushes when he writes the ending, grinning as he types.

He lets Louis read everything but the last chapter. He wouldn’t want to spoil it.


End file.
